Memory Lane
by Inks Inc
Summary: At the end of a long and taxing case, relaxation is sorely needed for the men of Team Gibbs. With the requisite dinner and drinks under way, the conversation suddenly turns nostalgic. But not everyone is happy about it. WARNING: Spanking/Papa Gibbs. Completed One-Shot. 100th Story.


The evening sun shimmered down on Gibbs' shoulders as he strolled leisurely back to the beachside hut. The case was closed and he and the boys would fly back to D.C. tomorrow. But for now, they were taking a well deserved evening off to recuperate from an arduous cross-border hunt and kill. He had waved the retrieval cargo plane off with strict instructions that their suspect's corpse be signed over to no one but Ducky with a sense of relief, before meandering into town for dinner. Pushing open the creaking wooden door with one hand, the other laden down with a ridiculous amount of food, he walked in on a very relaxed scene. Draped leisurely around the scrubbed wooden table, Tony was drinking lazily to the backdrop of Tim valiantly trying to explain to Mike how a Smartphone would revolutionise his life. Setting the food sack down on the table with a thump, Gibbs snorted at Franks' expression of utter bewilderment.

"Tim. What did I tell you about poking the dinosaur? It's not polite."

The two boys burst into laughter as a scowl broke out over Mike's face.

"Who you callin' a dinosaur you insolent little…" he growled, before seeing the teasing glint in his own Probie's eyes and sighing in defeat. "No wonder your lot ain't got the manners God gave them, with you as a role model," he muttered under his breath, smirking when the boys turned to him in outrage. "I am one of the most well mannered people you've ever met and you know it," Tony quipped, smacking Tim's hand away from the uncovered chicken. Yelping as the headslap predictably rained down, he allowed the Junior Agent safe passage to the poultry as Mike rolled his eyes, stomach rumbling at his own helpings.

Gibbs sat down at the other head of the table and loaded up his own plate.

"You wave the cargo plane off ok, Boss?" Tony asked through a mouthful of food. Nodding, Gibbs took a deep swig of cold beer and felt a relaxation he hadn't enjoyed in a long time seep through him. "Yup. Should be with Ducky in a few hours. He'll have made some headway with the autopsy by the time we land tomorrow." Nodding his approval, Tony reached forwards for some fries and suddenly let out a sharp squawk of pain. Gibbs turned to him in concern but before he could open his mouth, Mike had gotten there first. "You alright son?" he asked with a rare gentleness in his voice, born from the not so well hidden fact that Tony reminded him forcibly of a much younger Gibbs. Reddening, the SiC nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate, deflecting the sympathetic gaze of Tim. The penny suddenly dropped for Mike and he turned an accusing glare and fork onto his own protégé.

"You tan his butt for running off after that blonde gal? Damnit, Probie, I told you to let it go!"

Gibbs, to his credit, yielded not an inch under the baleful glare but returned one to boot. "Boss, I'm pretty sure this isn't something Tony wants discussed at the dinner table. It's private and between me and him, now leave it alone." Mike bristled and waved his fork even more wildly. "For God's sake all the kid did was wander off for a minute or so, he didn't start an international incident. I told you this enough times, but I'll tell you again. You will always get better results with the carrot over the stick." At that, Gibbs couldn't control the vigorous rolling of his eyes. "Oh yeah, cos I got a whole _load_ of carrot from you over the years. Whole farm full. Damn near started by own vegan import-export business from all that carrot." Mike narrowed his eyes at the very audible muttering and shook his head in disapproval, before turning to the silent Tony.

"Don't you mind him son, he's gone and gotten hypocritical in his tender years. His mind's a-going."

Gibbs nearly choked on his dinner.

"Hypocritical? How in the good hell am I being hypocritical?" he spluttered. "And there's nothing wrong with my damned mind. What with it being considerably younger than yours and what have you." Mike levelled his houseguest with a glare that made the younger visitors grin and threw his eyes to the ceiling. "I'll tell you how you're being hypocritical you little...oh I'll tell ya alright." A devilish look crossed his face and he waved his fork teasingly. "Or maybe I'll tell your ducklings here. I'm sure they'd love to know just _how_ you're being hypocritical. Wouldn't you guys?" Wide eyes looked back at him, flicking between the two heads of the table accompanied by mischievous smirks.

"Mike," Gibbs growled. "Talk about the weather."

"You know, I think the time you disappeared after that red head was the first time I had to take a-"

"Mike! The weather."

"Belt to your ass."

A ringing silence descended over the table as venomous warning pooled into Gibbs' eyes. The boys took a collective intake of breath, swapping looks of sheer shock. They'd always suspected that in order for Gibbs to have learned his unorthodox methods of team discipline, he'd have had to have experienced them himself somewhere along the way. But to actually _hear_ it and to see the flush rising up through their Boss' neck was slightly mindboggling. "Yeah," Mike continued easily, swigging on his beer. "I'm pretty sure that was your first time. You left me alone in the middle of a house sweep which turned out to contain some pretty mean ass zealots to go chasing tail across the street." He smirked. "First and last time you ever pulled _that_ stunt."

Gibbs felt the heat rise in his face.

"Well thank you very much for that trip down memory lane, much unwanted and unappreciated."

He didn't need to look up from the dinner he was resolutely staring at to know that his own team were gawping at him, mouths slack with shock. He could kill Mike. In fact, when night truly fell, he very much considered it a real possibility. The jackass. Racking his brains for something to seamlessly change the horrifying topic of conversation, he should have known better. There was no way in hell Tony was going to let _that_ little nugget of information go. "Well well well," he drawled, "Now I see what you were saying about being hypocritical, Mike. The only difference between me and the Boss here is our favourite hair colour." At this, Tim snorted in amazed laughter.

Gibbs groaned internally and looked up to glare violently at his mentor.

"You see? Do you see what you've done? You happy now?"

Mike grinned unashamedly down at him with a nod. "Aw take the rod out of your ass, Probie. You can be human sometimes, remember? You can even smile if you try really hard." If looks could kill, Mike, Mike's already deceased ancestors and their ancestors to boot would be writhing on the ground clutching at their throats. "Yes," Gibbs gritted out, "Thank you, Professor Franks. Now can we change the damned subject?" He schooled his face into a sardonic smile."Please?"

"I don't think so. This first-time story needs a lot more embellishment."

Gibbs levelled his SiC with a glare.

"Would you like for the table to discuss _your_ first time, Tony? Embellishment included."

The younger man paled.

"No, thank you Boss."

"Thought so," Gibbs muttered dryly. "Now, Tim, did you remember to ring Abby to let her know-"

"You're not going to let him off that easy now, are ya Tony?"

"Mike I swear to _God,_ if you don't stop encouraging him…."

Ignoring this empty as all hell threat with ease, the eldest of the grouping turned back to the tentatively grinning Tony once more. "Go on kid, give him hell. You all in a safe space now. I won't let him hurt ya or concuss ya, you have my word."

"I _will_ hurt you and I _will_ concuss you."

Weighing up this threat uttered through gritted teeth against Mike's casually calming presence, Tony saw a once in a life opportunity and knew he would be remiss to pass it up. Egged on by Tim's encouraging smirk, he cleared his throat and looked his rapidly souring team-lead in the eye. "C'mon Boss, do share. It'll humanise you." He threw a look around to the other two. "Right guys?" They nodded vigorously and as a unit turned to Gibbs expectantly, their brows raised in question. He stared back them in disbelief, his hand itching to deliver some clearly well deserved and needed headslaps.

"Last warning. Drop it. The two of you. This is a ridiculous conversation and it ends now."

Silence.

"Last encouragement. Go for it. The two of you. This is a learning conversation and it starts now."

Crackling silence.

"God damnit Mike, I am never bringing them anywhere near you ever again." Franks shrugged unrepentantly with a teasing glint in his eyes. He was proud of the way Gibbs handled his own brood, but he _did_ need to lighten up sometimes. Especially in their rare bouts of downtime. He got that it was paramount that his team respected him and his authority, but he had to be just a regular guy sometimes too. And at the dinner table, he was just a regular guy. Besides, with all the hell the man had given him as he'd dragged him up through the ranks of NIS turned NCIS, he deserved a little hazing when and where he could dish it out. He watched as his protégé let out a billowing sigh and pursed his lips up good and tight.

"A million years ago I was about a fifth of a percent as annoying as you two are and sometimes, darling _Mike_ here had to…check my conduct and attitude. Alright? Great. Story time over."

Three sets of eyes bored into his soul and he knew then and there, he was fighting a losing battle. How the hell this dinner had turned from a casual thing into an interrogation of the skeletons in his closet, he didn't know. Tim cocked his head to the side, his analytical mind working double time. "That's very vague, Boss. I mean you can check someone's conduct and attitude with a counselling session over a hot cup of coffee." He threw a sly look to Franks, clearly fuelled by the cold beer in his hands. "Is that how it went down, Mike? A gentle talk over some coffee? That's what you did when the Boss here ran out on an active investigation to chase…ex-wife number two?"

Gibbs gaped at the usually respectful-to-a-fault McGee.

Tony and Franks grinned appreciatively.

"Well now Tim, I don't recall it goin' down like that. Not at all, if I reckon I remember correctly."

"Well I think we've all had enough of your recollections, Boss," snipped Gibbs, "And I think we've all had enough of your cheek, McGee. Now for the love of God will you people just eat and go to sleep so I can get us the hell out of here with no delays tomorrow." He paused to glare at his smirking mentor. "One way ticket. Never to return."

"You're hurting my feelings, Probie. You're hurting them real bad."

Tim smirked.

"That's not nice Boss, right? To hurt the man's feelings? Especially as he's been so hospitable."

The former sniper suddenly longed for the battle field as he scrubbed tired eyes. It was easier there.

"Tim…don't abandon me here. I expect this from these two geniuses, but not you."

Tony put a dramatic hand over his hand and fluttered his eyelashes vigorously. "You think we're geniuses? Boss why didn't you ever tell me that before? I'm touched. I'm really touched." The team-lead glared so ferociously that the dairy products on the table were in danger of souring. "You'll be touched in a minute, DiNozzo" he threatened darkly. "And you won't like it. I promise you that."

Mike snorted.

"Not under my roof. These two done worked like dogs today. They can do and say as they please."

Gibbs stared mutinously as the two in question laughed openly at the strange turn of events.

"So go on then, Boss, tell us about the red head. We're not letting it go so you may as well give in now." It was with great difficulty that the leader refrained from dishing out a skull caving headslap. "I thought you didn't want the table to discuss your first…infraction with me, Tony? Because if we're talking about me, we're going to talk about you." He glared around at Tim. "That includes you too, McGee. I ain't having all this focus on me. Makes me blush." The two smirks instantly vanished to be replaced with a satisfied one on Gibbs' face. "Yeah," he drawled. "Thought as much. Now change the damned subject. This crap is bleak. Almost like being lost in the _forest_ in the _winter_ , bleak," he added with a meaningful glare at Tony, who reddened at the veiled inference. The two locked gazes and both suddenly recalled the same memory, from many years ago, from two very different viewpoints….

 _ **NCIS H.Q., Washington D.C., December 2001….**_

Director Morrow, puce with rage, was beginning to bring his scathing reprimand to a very overdue close. Special Agent Gibbs, although far from unused to such dressing downs, was fervently grateful for the closing tone of his lengthy reprimand. Standing to attention for so long had his muscles straining and a light sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. The man's words were burning into his brain, intermingling with his own anger that was very close to the surface as it was. "I want him dealt with, Gibbs. And I want him dealt with today. Do you understand me? You brought him here. I didn't authorise you to go on your own recruitment spree. But I accepted it, because sure, the kid has serious potential. But he's also been a serious pain in my ass since he's been here. This is the last straw. This is the very last straw. Either you bring him in line yourself, or he's out that door just as fast he came through it. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my damned mouth?"

Gibbs hid a flinch and nodded.

"Yes sir," he said quietly. "I assure you, nothing of this nature will ever happen again."

Tom sat down behind the desk he'd been shouting from for the last fifteen minutes with a dismissive nod. "See that it doesn't. Just so you're incentivised and because you seem to have forgotten the draw backs of management, you'll be on call for an extra two weeks once your rotation is finished. The kid too. Think of it as some more time to get to know each other and more importantly, to get to know how you can control the damned menace. Now get out, but woe betide you if I have to drag your ass in here again for the same thing ever again. I have more important things to do with my time then chewing out a man who should god damned know better. Dismissed."

Gibbs fled from the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

Taking the stairs two and three at a time, he blazed back into the squad room like the devil incarnate. His one man team looked up nervously as he slammed his way along. Without breaking his gait he snarled an abrupt "DiNozzo. With me," out and carried along at a furious pace. He heard the near jogging footsteps behind him as his new recruit struggled to keep up but he didn't slow down even an iota until they reached the destination he had decided upon in the latter stages of Tom's blistering telling off. Throwing open the Conference Room door that hadn't been used in years, he glared until the pale kid took the hint and scurried in. Slamming the thick door shut behind him, he strode to the far side of the large polished table as Tony nervously drew himself to attention on the opposite side. Taking a couple of deep breaths, reminding himself that the kid was still a rookie in the federal capacity, he didn't speak for several minutes.

Tony nearly passed clean out at least five times during the silent pause.

"Explain yourself."

The voice was quieter now, much more controlled. Swallowing deeply, freshly minted Agent DiNozzo didn't know whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing. His voice wavered slightly as he spoke, but he persevered nonetheless. He'd never worked for a more terrifying man than the one in front of him, but he'd also never worked for a man he'd instinctually respected and admired more. "I screwed up sir; I disobeyed orders and got myself lost in the woods. I cost the agency man power and money in finding me and risked the case in the process. I don't know… I don't know what the hell I was thinking and I'm real sorry….really."

Gibbs stared for the longest moment before sighing a tumultuous sigh.

"How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to call me sir? You're in enough trouble as it is, and now you want to insult me to boot? You been here six months, and you still don't know the basics?"

Tony swallowed.

"Sorry, Boss."

"And that's another thing. Another basic. Rule number six, DiNozzo, what is it?"

Tony could have kicked himself.

"Never say you're sorry," he rattled off, "It's a sign of weakness."

"So is the inability to follow orders, the arrogance to think you know better than your commanding officer and the putting of your own ego before the case you're responsible for. From what I've seen of you, you're not a weak kid but I'll be damned if you've not shown every single one of those weaknesses in the space of the last twenty four hours. What in the world were you _thinking?_ How could you have possibly thought that directly disobeying my order to keep watch, wandering into one of the densest forests in a one hundred mile radius in a pair of slacks and that ridiculously fancy shirt was a good idea? Do you know how cold it gets in the forest at night? Do you? Do you know the kind of wildlife that lives in there that would think you nothing more than a seriously good dinner? Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that was?"

His voice rose at the last syllable because that was the true source of his anger.

He'd been terrified. When he realised that Tony had abandoned his post in an inane solo search that had led him further into the forest than he was equipped for, when he realised the kid was lost with zero survival skills in an extremely dangerous wooded area. And not the general terror he felt when his former SiC's had been in harm's way. It was a different terror, a personal terror. Because there was something about this kid…something different. Something that drew out the softer side in him.

Tony dropped his head in shame, examining his shoes.

"Yes Boss."

"And you did it anyway?"

The sandy brown head dropped even further, the shoes even more thoroughly examined.

"Yes Boss."

Gibbs sighed and let some of the disappointment he felt colour his features. "What were you trying to prove, Tony? You're not stupid and you have good instincts. You knew better and you did it anyway. So why? What were you thinking?" An uneasy silence sprung up between them as Tony shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, a flush colouring his face. "I wasn't trying to prove anything. I just wasn't…thinking." He looked up from the floor and sucked in a serious helping of air. "Look, Boss, I know that the Director was hauling you over the coals up there because of me and I know it's not the first time either. I don't…really stay in the same job or place that long and…" he bit his lip as he reached for his waistline and withdrew his gun and badge, placing them gently on the shiny surface top. "Maybe it's just best all round if we part ways now. I've screwed up and it'll happen either way in the end, least this way you can calm the Director down a little." He stepped away from the table and tried to conceal the misery that coursed through him. This was a jump before you're pushed situation if ever he'd seen one.

"It was a real privilege, Boss. I regret that it had to end this way."

His hand was on the Conference Room door by the time Gibbs had recovered from his shock enough to operate his mouth. "You take that hand off that door before I snap it off, DiNozzo. Get yourself back into front and centre. I don't care what soft fools you've worked with before, but around here? I dismiss you. No one else. And especially not you. You pick up that badge and that gun. They only come off if I demand they come off or if you move onto something better. Not because you cut and run like a four year old because things have gotten rough. This isn't a theatre programme. There are no dramatic exits round here. There's hard work and there's doing good, and being good. I told ya before, I don't waste good and you…you're good. Rough as all manner of hell around the edges, but good nonetheless." He swallowed. "Real good."

Tony's hand slipped off the door in nothing short of shuddering shock.

"You're not…you're not firing me?"

Gibbs snorted.

"What did I just say about wasting good? No I ain't going to fire you, though I should."

Tony moved back to face the older man slowly with his eyes widening in shock. "So you're just going to let this go?" The confusion was dripping from his tone. He'd been slapped upside the head more times in the last six months than in his entire lifetime. For being two seconds late, for being glib, for being too focussed on the pretty witnesses. And now, he'd caused a full blown Agency wide incident, cost a tonne load of money and Gibbs was just all… _but you're good._ He blinked furiously in an inane attempt to understand, but the elder of the two was more than happy to fill in the gaps.

"Let it go? You completely lost your mind? The hell I'm going to let it go. I ain't going to fire you, but I'm sure as hell gonna discipline you."

Images of desk duty for the rest of his earthly life suddenly flooded Tony's mind.

"Administrative reassignment?"

If Gibbs had a moustache, it would have been blown clean off from the derisive snort he offered.

"Desk duty? The hell is that gonna teach you? I need you on my six, in the field, all day long. Not stuck behind a desk pushing paper." He paused then and weighed his options once more. The route he was going to offer the kid was always a dangerous one at the first junction. It wasn't orthodox, it wasn't Agency approved though he knew full well how Tom expected him to "deal with" his unruly subordinate. But it had only been six months with the kid at his side and this wasn't a conversation he had envisaged happening so soon. But there was just something different about this one. He'd trained many a SiC and none of them were like Tony. None of them had struck that cord of terror in him as he watched them in danger.

"Tony, I don't believe in paper punishments. They're stupid, they'll damage your career unfairly and they're just an ass-covering mechanism for the Agency that won't actually teach you anything, but will hold you back from every deserved promotion for years to come."

The young man blinked in confusion.

"Uhh…ok, so what else is there?" His face suddenly paled. "PT? Laps?" Gibbs, despite the seriousness of the situation and the charged atmosphere, had to bite back a grin. "No. Not laps…I think you've learned all you can from them the last time." The relief that flooded Tony's face was to be short lived and Gibbs knew it was cruel to keep him guessing. Taking a deep breath he, in traditional style, just bit the bullet and delivered the news bluntly and succinctly.

"I'm talking about corporal punishment."

A penny could have dropped and caused an audible earthquake in the deathly silent room. Tony stared blankly and palely across the table at an equally emotionally charged, but more discreet, Gibbs. His mouth moved wordlessly as if he were tasting the syllables he wanted to utter before biting them back. Several moments passed as both men stared at each other quietly, each with a thundering heartbeat. It was Tony who eventually broke the silence.

"As in…a beating?"

In that moment and in that instant, Gibbs knew. He saw the flash of raw fear in the usually laughing green eyes, the subtle defensive shift in posture and the gaze that flickered nervously towards the exit. He'd suspected, but now he knew and his gut burned with anger. The time would come, he was sure, when he would meet the man who put that fear in those eyes and he would relish that day. But for now, he was faced only with the outcome of the conduct and he knew he had to tread more carefully than ever before. The gentleness that suddenly injected itself into his voice was a testament to that fact.

"No, Tony, not a beating. A spanking."

"What's the difference?"

Gibbs' gut clenched.

"There's an ocean of difference, Tony. An ocean. A beating's delivered by a coward who only wants to hurt and doesn't care about anything else. A spanking's given by someone who…only has your best interests at heart and doesn't care about anything else." He wasn't planning in a million years on being this open but the look on the kid's face had the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I know I'm one hard son-of-a-bitch to work for. I know I ride your ass, I know I don't accept anything but the best. But that's not because I enjoy making your life hard or miserable. It's because I see that potential you got. The potential you hide behind that jock-boy mask you got going on. The real Tony. That's the one I'm trying to get through to when I'm hollering about proper crime scene protocol, witness examination and whatever the hell else we go through on a daily basis. It's because you…it's been six months, but you're the best young agent I've worked with. And that's the truth. I don't give bullshit and I don't take bullshit so when I tell you that, I sure as hell mean it."

Tony's bottom jaw was in desperate danger of careering off the carpeted floor.

"Boss….that….that was very _eloquent."_

Gibbs' jaw joined the peril as he stared at the young man incredulously. Before a grin broke over his face despite everything they were battling through. It was just so _Tony._ "Yeah, well, I'm a very eloquent guy. You just don't see it. But my points are still true. I don't want you walking out that door, bouncing from job to job and never making a life anywhere. But at the same time I owe a responsibility to this Agency and to the victims we represent. I cannot have a SiC who disobeys my orders and puts themselves in unnecessary danger. I just can't, Tony. I believe in bending the rules where I have to, but not breaking them. You have the potential to have your own MCRT one day, to be a great team-lead. But you're never going to get there if you don't learn discipline. I know you were a great cop, but being a federal Agent is different. The standards are different, the expectations are different. You need to adjust and you need to adjust fast before you cross the Director's path or a bullets path. That's what I'm telling you."

Tony's eyes were bulging.

"You really think I could lead my own team?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I really think you could lead your own team."

Exhaling slowly, the muttered "wow" was infused with a surprise that made Gibbs' gut ache. The kid really had no idea of himself, none at all. But this wasn't a counselling session. He couldn't send mixed messages. If he was ever going to build this boy up he needed to be around to do it. He cleared his throat and schooled his face back into a stern mask of disapproval. "Now, I ain't got all day for this. We're here cos' you acted like an imbecile, risked your life and job and wasted a lot of Agency resources in the process. That can't slide. I won't allow that nonsense on my watch. Now, just cos' I can't stand paper punishments don't mean that you don't got a choice. You can take a two week unpaid suspension or you can take a licking from me. It's entirely your choice. Official or unofficial. But you need to know that the unofficial way is just that. It's unofficial. Just between you and me, no record. Once it's done it's done. The slate is clean and we never mention it again. That's your choice and I know it's a lot to take in all of a sudden, but I need your decision."

If the green eyes were wide before, they were positively saucer like now.

"How…how would it…you….uhh…."

"Spank you?" Gibbs supplied not unkindly, "Is that what you mean?" Tony reddened, but being from a military schooling background, was not entirely unused to the concept. But he was unused to the idea of a physical chastisement being delivered by someone who'd ever said a good word about him, or was looking at him with unmistakable concern and kindness in their eyes. But, his instinctual trusting of Gibbs was stronger than the unknown and he found himself dropping his usual mask of cockiness as the older man spoke quietly.

"Over the table with my belt. Slacks up, this time."

Everything Gibbs said was so matter-of-fact that it if it wasn't such a serious situation, Tony would have burst into laughter. An odd question suddenly popped into his brain then, and him being him, had no choice but to allow it to squirm through his lips.

"Did you ever get it? When you were SiC, I mean?"

Gibbs wasn't much of a laugher, but he spluttered then at the strange query as he nodded his head.

"All the damned time when I was your age in the Corps and then some after I joined NIS."

This seemed to reassure the kid a hell of a lot as he took in the information with wide eyes. Clearly, the idea of a not-so-perfect Gibbs was a hard one to digest. He shuffled somewhat, looking incredibly young and vulnerable. "It'll hurt," he whispered more to himself than anything else. "It'll hurt real bad." Wishing he could say it wouldn't and that it would be fine, Gibbs suddenly found himself rounding the table to Tony's side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Ignoring the look of profound shock that this elicited, he squeezed it softly. "Yeah, son, it'll hurt. It has to. But it won't kill you. It won't break you. It'll take one or two minutes and then it'll be done and we can move the hell on from this mess. But, at the same time, you're absolutely allowed to choose the suspension. I won't think less of you either way. It's totally up to you. It's entirely your call."

Tony's jaw seemed to stiffen and the shoulder under Gibbs' hand squared up.

"I don't want a suspension. This job…it's all I've got."

If there was anything the elder of the two could understand, it was that. The words he intended to say however, were not the ones that slipped out of his mouth. "I get that. I do. But try and find something else. More than the job. You need more, trust me." The words were loaded with sincerity and regret and Tony instinctively knew there was a story behind them, but now was not the time to ask about it. Instead he nodded shortly. Gibbs seemed to realise what he'd said and stepped back, creating space between them and breathing in deeply.

"So? I need to hear your decision out loud."

Biting down his panic and fear, Tony forced himself to hold his nerve.

"I choose the unofficial punishment."

Gibbs felt a surge of pride for his fledgling protégé and allowed a glimmer of it to cross his face. "I think that's the right call," he praised softly, but keeping a stern note to his tone. "But that doesn't mean this is gonna be easy. Like you said, this is gonna hurt. You're gonna learn just how much I will not tolerate this kind of acting up. You're gonna really learn just how much I will come down on you when you act like an idiot because you think taking risks is going to impress me. It's not. It never will. Doing your job well, and using your brain and thinking about others? That'll impress me. Not action movie horsecrap. Is that understood?"

Realising that Gibbs knew a lot more than he ever let on, Tony blushed but nodded.

"Yes Boss."

Chewing his lip, the elder Agent thought briefly.

"And if we continue handling your…poor decision making this way in the future, those slacks won't be staying up either. That's a onetime deal and it won't be repeated. You think what you're about to get is bad you just go on and try getting it on the bare ass. Trust me when I tell you that you do _not_ want that. Is that clear?"

Blushing even more furiously, Tony nodded yet again.

"Yes Boss."

With the time for talking effectively over, Gibbs hid a grimace as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

He really didn't want to do what he was about to do. But it was a price they both had to pay, each in their own way. And hopefully it would be the catalyst for the effective reining in of a kid that had the potential to go farther than he ever had. As Tony turned slowly and draped himself over the table without having to be ordered or cajoled to, he knew that sort of courage and respect for the badge and himself would carry Tony far and carve out his life. What he didn't know, as he placed the warm hand on the small of the kid's back was the impact that Tony would have on _his_ life. But five minutes later as he instinctively pulled the red eyed rookie into his arms for what was for him, the most uncharacteristic embrace in a long time, he did know that he would be holding onto this one for as long as he could.

And not just because he really didn't waste good.

But because Tony was…different.

And he needed something different, someone different.

They both did.

 _ **Mike Franks' House, Beachside, Mexico, Summer 2013**_

Tony suddenly didn't want to press Gibbs for any further information. The intensely private nature of his first encounter with Gibbs' heavy hand of justice was just that, it was private and not something he wanted discussed at the dinner table. As he looked down at his dinner in a mock display of exasperated defeat, he could have sworn he caught a nostalgic glimmer in Gibbs' eyes as he too, averted his gaze. In his gut he knew the Boss-Man had been recalling the same memory he had, wondering how in the hell a decade had passed between then and now and marvelling at all the highs and lows that had taken them from then to now, from colleagues to family. However Tim wasn't just back from a trip down memory lane and wasn't to be deterred.

"Boss?" he called, snapping Gibbs back from a rather vacant state. "You're not getting off that easily. C'mon, spill. I need ideas for my new novel." Blue eyes swivelled to the right hand side of the table and fixated upon the grinning Junior Agent. Shaking his head, Gibbs arched a brow. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Tony, seeing as you didn't seem to hear. You wouldn't want me discussing _your_ first…transgressions, so drop it and eat your dinner. I had to traipse all over the nation for the disgusting vegetarian thingy. You're going to eat it _hot."_ Deciding to nip the questions about to fall from Tim's opening mouth in the bud, he tilted his head warningly. "Hot, McGee. Like the red hot trail of a hacker in an online comic book store." Just like Tony, the veiled reference that only he would understand struck a chord and he gulped as his mind unwillingly followed Gibbs' down the winding road of years passed….

 _ **Leroy Jethro Gibbs' House, D.C., Autumn 2005**_

Shivering on the sofa from sheer terror, Timothy McGee for the first time in his career found himself wishing fervently that Tony was with him. Not that he needed him, but just because…just because. Gibbs continued to pace up and down in front of him, worrying the fraying carpet of his aged living room. He turned to the pale kid every now and then, opened his mouth, before snapping it shut to resume his ferocious pacing. It had been nine and a half minutes since he'd last spoken and Tim was becoming concerned with the very real possibility that he was in the midst of some class of seizure. Just when he was mustering up his courage to ask should he call Ducky, Gibbs' voice suddenly filled the room. Quiet, levelled, but shimmering with rage.

"How in the hell could you be so stupid?"

A relatively fair question given the circumstances. Staring at his knees, Tim gnawed his lip as he answered. "I wasn't thinking…I just, I just really wanted it. And I knew I could get it so I just…I just went and did it." If he was hoping that his answer would calm the wounded looking Gibbs, his hopes were about to be dashed. " _You just really wanted it?"_ The broad chest ballooned with exasperated anger as the pacing abruptly stopped and hands were placed on hips, a ferocious expression barrelling down on the clammy boy. "That's what you're going with? That's what you want to tell me? Have you _lost_ your _mind?"_

In hindsight, Tim would have answered things differently.

"So let me get this straight in my mind. You illegally hacked, as a federal Agent of the law, some ridiculous online comic book site thing…got caught, blackmailed and threatened, because _you just really wanted it?"_ The pacing was back. It was more furious than ever. Turning magnolia white, Tim gulped and stared at the floor in shame. It was stupid. He'd been an utter moron, he knew it. He should have known a website of that calibre had a talented designer behind it. He should have been more careful in his hack. But he'd rushed things, he'd left breadcrumbs. He'd been so desperate to get the new release that wasn't due for publication for another month, that he'd thrown caution to the wind. He hadn't meant to steal anything though, he really hadn't. He had a fully paid up membership so he just saw it as…a bonus perk of subscription. But the writer of the sci-fi comic hadn't thought that. He hadn't thought that at all. He'd threatened to turn him in, after tracking his IP address and figuring out what he did for a living. Attempted to blackmail him into covering for his own illegal activity. In desperation and not knowing what else to do, McGee had turned to Gibbs.

Who'd in turn had dealt with the problem, but was about as far from impressed as Tim had ever seen him.

He was like a man possessed.

The pacing suddenly ceased and the hands were back on the hips.

"Do you know what would happen if this had turned official and the Agency found out? Care to take a guess? No? Let me paint you a picture then. You'd be sacked on the spot, your career in law enforcement would be over and you'd end up selling computers at the local flea market." To be fair, if he were dismissed from law enforcement today, Tim knew he would have a six figure salary job in the private market within a matter of hours. Wisely however, he kept these employment opportunities to himself as Gibbs continued to growl down upon him. "Was it really worth it, McGee? A damned _comic?_ For the love of…you're one of the most intelligent young men I have ever met but you can also fill the role of one of the stupidest young men I have ever met. I pulled you from Norfolk because you have potential, you have good instincts and you have talent. I did not pull you from Norfolk so I could spent my Saturday afternoons threatening some greasy comic book writer in his mother's basement. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

Tim gulped.

"I hear what you're saying, Boss. I'm really-"

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. Don't you _dare."_

Snapping his mouth shut, Tim worried his lower lip again. He'd been on Gibbs' team for around nine months and this was his first screw up that couldn't be rectified with a headslap and a sharp word. For his part, Gibbs was struggling. Whilst he came down on his two boys like a truck, it was harder with Tim. Although far from weak, he was just…softer, than Tony. His words cut him deeper than they did his SiC. In fact he was pretty sure his words were just like water off a duck's back to DiNozzo, but still. It was harder to read Tim the riot act and this was the first time he had to truly lay into him. This was serious. This was serious as all hell. If IG were ever to get wind of what had happened, there was no way he could save McGee's career, and his alongside it.

"McGee. For God's sake do you realise how serious this is? How badly you've screwed up here?"

The twenty something year old nodded miserably, knowing this was a prelude to being shunted to some other team. That fact coated his stomach and trundled around his innards. As terrifying as it had been and still was in some respects, settling into Team Gibbs had been one of the best things that ever happened to him. He was happy. For the first time he was happy and it was without the need for the Admiral's approval. He was happy for himself and it was a new and wonderful feeling. And now it was over. He would be thrown down into the IT basement where everyone was pale and socially awkward.

"How will you explain to Director Morrow about the transfer?"

The words were out there before he could stop them. Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation. "What the hell are you talking about?" Tim stared, confusion dogging him. "The transfer," he repeated quickly. "Or are you firing me?" Panic gripped him. He didn't want to work in the private sector, making rich people richer. He loved helping people and the thoughts of having that taken away over one of the dumbest mistakes he'd ever made was almost too much to take. "Boss, please. I know I screwed up. I do, I really do but please don't fire me. I don't…I can't, I don't want to be a developer. I love being an Agent. I'll do anything just please don't fire me. I'll even work in the-"

The raised hand cut his words off at the quick.

"Who the hell said anything about firing you or transferring you?"

McGee blinked.

"Uhh…well no one, I guess. I suppose I just assumed that there'd be some form of punishment."

Gibbs raised an oddly terrifying brow.

"Oh," he murmured silkily, "There's going to be a punishment alright. You can count on that." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Tim, have you ever spoken to Tony about stuff? Has he ever mentioned to you anything about off the record goings on? Maybe related to some of the stuff he pulls in the office." Tim frowned. He racked his brains at the question but came up relatively empty. "Not really, Boss," he said truthfully, "I mean he told me to avoid pissing you off at all costs and that if I valued my life I should never lie to you, but that's about it."

Gibbs nodded, having expected that answer.

"Well there's some good advice in there, but haven't you ever wondered how Tony never seems to ride a desk, be suspended or hauled up to the Director's office for some of his more…out there stunts?" He could tell instantly from McGee's face that this was a question that he most certainly pondered on before. "Well sure," the kid said uncertainly, unsure to where this line of questioning was going. "But Tony's, Tony right? He gets the results so I guess I've just assumed that his pros outweigh his cons…" He looked away for a moment, and spoke more to himself than anything else. "He's a great Agent, talented."

Despite the situation, Gibbs allowed himself a small smile at the unspoken words.

"You want to be like him?"

Tim reddened and ducked his head down to the ground.

"Spose so. Not gonna look like him ever, but be cool to be as good an Agent as he is."

Gibbs nodded. "It would and you can be, just the same as he's improving every day. You can and will too. But not if you pull this kind of crap. Not if you put childish desires before your responsiblites. I get that you're into all that err…science stuff, I do. But you can't just take what you want, when you want because you have the ability to do so. That is unacceptable. I could accept and expect this nonsense from a high schooler but you, McGee? I mean really? You're an MIT graduate and a federal Agent. There's absolutely no excuse for this carry on. Not a one. You weren't stuck in a bad situation, trying to do the right thing that required breaking the rules. You were just behaving like a spoiled, entitled little brat who didn't want to wait like every other toddler for the shiny new toy. I put my life in your hands on a daily basis and this is how you behave? Should I put a weapon in the four -year-old kid across the street hands and bring him out with me too? Do you see the damned correlation here?"

Shamefaced beyond belief, Tim nodded and spoke in a muted whisper.

"Yes Boss."

Cupping his hand behind his ear dramatically, Gibbs tilted his head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

Flushing even further, Tim cleared his throat and spoke clearly and loudly.

"Yes Boss."

"Better," said Gibbs quietly. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he sighed and thought quickly. "Look, you're going to find this out sooner or later and you've gone and made sure that it's a case of sooner. The reason Tony never seems to ride a desk, be suspended or get his ass chewed off by the Director for goofing off is because I deal with him. Privately. Off the record. Just between me and him, clean slate thereafter. That way he knows what I will and won't tolerate from him and his record stays clean and he can go on up through the ranks when his times comes without stupid letters in his jacket holding him back."

Tim's eyes were wide as he stared back at him.

"You make him run laps or something?"

The similarity between that question and the one Tony had asked as precursor to his first time struck Gibbs in that moment as he shook his head in the negative. "No, not laps. I'll level with you McGee because I have no patience for beating around the bush. You know I'm a military man and I believe in military ways. And when I was in the Corps and someone would pull a stupid stunt like you've pulled, they would be given a choice, depending on their commanding officer. That choice was always between official and unofficial punishment, like what I was talking about with Tony. The official punishment was a letter in your file and the unofficial punishment was…well, the unofficial punishment was being bent over a table whilst your CO tanned your behind with his belt. That's what I learned and how I learned and that's how I teach. That's the choice I gave to Tony before you joined the team and that's the way he and I deal with things to this day. I don't do it for anyone and everyone, and there's been plenty of men before you two were out of school that I've canned without a second thought for this kind of stuff. But you're like Tony, I see potential. Lots of it. I don't want to see your career hampered by dumb shit. So I'm offering you that choice."

He tilted his head.

"Between official and unofficial punishment."

Tim was in danger of suffocating on his own tonsils as he gawped rather gormlessly at his Boss.

Seizing the silence, Gibbs continued. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in but that's the reality of it, McGee. Of course in your case if you want to opt for the official route I'm going to have to fabricate some reason to assign you to desk duty and/or suspend you. That letter will stay in your jacket for the duration of your career. I ain't trying to make your mind up for you but I need you to be aware of the consequences of your choice. If you choose the unofficial road, like I told Tony, it's between us. It's over and done with and we never talk about it again. Bear in mind that the only reason I'm discussing him with you is to try and get you to understand your options. Whatever you choose, if I find out that during one of your bickering sessions that you threw any of what I just told you in his face, you _will_ be off my team. That's how seriously I take your privacy when it comes to this. Is that understood?"

Somehow, someway…Tim managed to nod.

"I would never do that," he said quietly, "To him, I mean."

Gibbs' face softened as he nodded.

"I know kid, but I had to give you fair warning regardless. You know how you two are."

Tim couldn't argue with that, his squabbling with Tony was second nature. His mind was whirring as he stared down at the floor. The idea of being bent over on the receiving end of Gibbs' belt was enough to make his heart stop in his chest with terror. But the idea of having a hampering letter of reprimand in his pristine file for rest of his career made him sick with regret. He looked up at his now silent Boss and cleared his throat nervously.

"You mean like, unofficially, you'd…uhh, whip me? Isn't that like…illegal?"

Gibbs blanched.

"No, I wouldn't whip you. Jesus, Tim, what do you take me for? It'd be a spanking. No different to what I got growing up, in the Corps and at NIS. As for the illegal part, I dunno son. I don't really think of it in terms of legal and illegal. I think of it in terms of employed and unemployed, dead and alive. But, I will definitely not stop you if you want to report this conversation to Director Morrow. I stand by how I discipline my people and if that's illegal or what have you, then so be it. All I know is that doing what I do, and having done to me what was done, saved my life and others. That's all I know so that's all I can tell you."

Tim paled a deathly white.

"Boss…no, I wasn't suggesting…I wasn't threatening….oh God, Boss… _no….."_

Gibbs smiled one of his rare smiles and shook his head. He was used to McGee's rambling now. What had irritated him in the beginning, he now saw as just another endearing trait. Just like his trait of needing to know all the relevant information, all the time. "I know you weren't suggesting or threatening Tim, I know that. Calm down. Breathe." Relief thundered through McGee like a jackhammer as he tried to regulate his oxygen. "Uhh….so, uhm…if I were to go down the unofficial road…that'd be it? Nothing else? You'd uhm, stop being mad at me?"

Gibbs frowned.

"It isn't about getting me to stop being angry with you. It's about you learning something so you don't made a mistake that you or I can't come back from or fix. It's about you learning that you can't always get what you want, when you want it and how you want it. It's about protecting your career and your life going forwards. It isn't about me. It's all about you. I'd sure as hell rather not have to spank you Tim. I can tell you right now if I do it, I'll hate it. But like I said, it's for you. Not me. So I will do it, no matter how I feel about it. My anger or anything else isn't relevant. It's all about you."

He stared at the kid intently.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

With wide eyes, Tim nodded. "I guess so." He glanced down at the ground and hunched his shoulders. "I have to make my mind up now?" Nodding immediately, Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose as an impossible fatigue washed over him. "Yeah, Tim, you do. I need to know whether or not I have a one man team or a two man team to work with on Monday morning." Appreciating the practicality of that and finding that his gut was operating at a higher capacity than his brain, Tim nodded and opened his mouth as terror spurted throughout him.

"I'll take the unofficial punishment, Boss. I don't want to leave you a man down in the field."

Gibbs closed his eyes as pride burned in him. That was one of the great things about McGee. He was selfless and dedicated to the job. Something that couldn't be taught or bought. "And," the kid continued, "I know what I did was stupid and I don't want it following me around my whole career. Thanks…for sorting it out for me, but I guess I need to sort it out too." He glanced around the room and steeled himself with as much courage as he could muster. "Where uhm…do you want me?" Before Gibbs could answer, he was on his feet and reaching for the buckle of his belt and fumbling with the waistband of his jeans, clearly no newcomer to corporal correction. Gibbs moved forwards and snaked out a gentle hand to stop him and answered the question in the confused eyes.

"Pants stay up for the first time. Did it for Tony too. First time's hard enough as it is. You're ok."

Gratitude burned across the kid's face as he nodded fervently. Knowing that to draw things out would just be cruel and sensing that Tim would need a lot of direction, Gibbs grasped him gently by the arm and led him to the arm of the sofa he'd vacated. Reaching down to unbuckle his own belt, he pointed to the raised arm. "Over that. Hold tight to the cushion. You don't get up till I tell you to, or you cop more." With one fleeting look of fear that hurt Gibbs' heart in a way he'd never admit to, Tim did as he was bid and buried his head into his arms. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, the elder Agent placed a heavy but warm hand on the small of the kid's back and braced himself.

It was the longest two or three minutes of his professional come personal life.

With Tony, it had been hard. With Tim, it had broken him. Throwing the belt of his hand he didn't afford the young man the opportunity to comport himself as he gently pulled him up from the sofa and into his arms. He stiffened in the embrace, clearly shocked to the core that his emotionally constipated Boss was capable of such a thing, before melting at the warm presence, the familiar scent and his physical and emotional exhaustion. When he eventually released him and carded a hand through his tousled hair, he smiled a rare smile at the sniffling Probie.

"You're alright, son. You'll be alright now. You did great."

Tim stared at him through red rimmed eyes and flushed at his less than stoic state.

"I...uhh, I'll err….leave you to your Saturday. Uhm…I guess I'll see you…at work, and that…"

Gibbs' hand gently reached out to stop the embarrassed getaway. "Oh no you don't," he contradicted quietly, knowing why the young man was embarrassed, having been there himself. "You're invested in my Saturday now and you have to serve your time. That's the law, I think. Now if I'm gonna have any idea of what you're up to out there in the dark world of comic books and pre-release dates, I'm gonna need to brush up on my Star Trek. Your favourite, right?"

Tim blanched.

"Star _Wars."_

Gibbs blinked.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

Tim opened his mouth in indignant anger that was an odd contrast to his red eyes and the vigorous rubbing of his butt. "Well whatever," the elder Agent said hurriedly, sensing a tirade, "The point is, I require some education. So you're gonna stick around here and put some of that…uhh, show on the box and I'll make us something to eat. Is that clear?"

The younger man's jaw fell open.

"You want to hang out with me?" he blurted out in shock, "Really?"

Gibbs' heart splintered in two at the tone of shock and nodded patiently. "Yeah, Tim, really. I'm not all bad you know. Well, not really. Go on and get that thing-a-majig working and I'll throw something on. You must be starving. You can put a cushion on the sofa, but you're not to be standing when I come back in here." With one last playful punch to the shoulder he disappeared into the kitchen with the realisation that maybe he did have room in his cold, dead heart for another kid that required the same level of attention as Tony, but was about as different from Tony as he could possibly be. Just as he came to the realisation that he had no edible food whatsoever, a confused voice called him back into the living room.

"Yeah, Tim, what is it?"

The kid looked between him and his TV set as if the former had lost his mind.

"Boss…your TV? It's in black and white."

Gibbs nodded.

"Yeah? That's ok for the uhh…moon stuff and that, right?"

In that moment, Tim knew that Gibbs was definitely one of a kind and far from being one to usually appreciate discrepancies in the natural order, he found himself, despite his viciously stinging butt, grateful for the enigma that was LJ Gibbs as they exchanged unusually soft smiles.

"Yeah, Boss, that's ok for the moon stuff and that."

 _ **Mike Franks' House, Beachside, Mexico, Summer 2013**_

Tim's plate suddenly seemed all consuming as he lost interest in his impromptu interrogation. Gibbs watched him suddenly fixate on his dinner and knew that he'd been thinking along the same memory board as he had been. As irritable as he'd been with the inquisition, he had to admit that looking back on McGee then and looking at him now was a pleasant experience. The kid had come on leaps and bounds since his foray into the comic-criminal underworld. Shaking his head slightly and turning back to his own dinner, he sighed in relief when the topic was effectively closed with his boys just as effectively silenced. But of course, he underestimated Mike's love of torturing him. "Well Probie, I guess if you won't tell em' I'll have to be the tale bearer." He scratched his chin thoughtfully as Tony and Tim looked up hesitantly, wondering how this would be received by Gibbs. Technically, if they weren't doing the needling or investigating, they weren't to blame. They hoped.

"So there we were boys, in a ratty ass house. My only back up being this genius over here and-"

"You ever hear from Agent Nevins, Mike?"

Mike stalled mid-chew.

"What's that?"

It was Gibbs' turn to grin as he tilted his head to the side. "I said do you ever hear from Agent Nevins? You remember him, right? One of the original NIS guys. Real hard-ass. Could make a grown man cry just by looking at him the wrong way. Hell, I heard that one time there was real stupid Agent, thought he knew everything about everything. Anyways, this guy was supporting Nevins in the field and he was told to flank his six to the right, sweep the scene. But this guy, oh a real moron, thought he was too good to be a supporting Agent and decided to charge forwards and take the lead when the suspect showed up. Ignored Nevins' screaming orders at him and just went on and did his thing. Long story short, turns out the op they were on was a training one, need to know basis only. This idiot went and blew a couple of thousand dollars worth of a programme cross-operated with the CIA, costing NCIS both money and reputation."

He shook his head in derision, his eyes twinkling with his own brand of mirth.

"From what I heard, this imbecile was crying for his mother by the time Nevins' belt was done with him."

A dull flush was creeping up the back of Mike's neck as he stared at his still incorrigible-as-hell protégé with a glare that was utterly ineffective to the background of Tony and Tim's sniggering. Clearing his throat as the laughter behind hands got even louder and as Gibbs grinned proudly, he stood and collected the now empty as they were going to be plates. Whipping the boys' crockery from under them and stacking them in one hand, he reached over for Gibbs' and growled incomprehensibly in his throat. Far from being concerned, the younger man placed his plate on the tottering pile with a wink and a smart assed remark. Smiling serenely as if he too thought the whole situation just darned hilarious, Mike passed around the back of his protégé to get to the kitchen.

The headslap was enough to elicit an extremely loud and strangled yelp from Gibbs.

As Franks disappeared into the kitchen in search of dessert, a self satisfied smirk on his face, the former Marine was left rubbing the furious and nearly forgotten sting out of the back of his head in chagrin. The sniggering that had been at least contained in the wake of Mike's embarrassment was now freely ringing around the table as Tony and Tim delighted in seeing Gibbs get a taste of his own, very painful, medicine. Glaring at the two as he dropped his hand away, the team-lead quirked a dangerous brow.

"Do you two want the same?"

The laughter instantly died off.

"Do you see how lucky you are now? To have me instead of him? He's a nightmare." Tony and Tim exchanged incredulous looks, neither knowing what a safe response looked like. Gibbs looked back at them with a mildly wounded expression on his face. "Oh come on, really? You think I'm as bad as him? Seriously?"

Their answer was in tandem and dripping with laughter.

"No. You're worse."

….

A/N: Hey guys! As this is my 100th story and as I've somehow (where the hell did that time go?) archived 1,000,000 words, I wanted to do a sort of reminiscent and much longer than usual one-shot with Gibbs/Tony/Tim as Father/Son with a dash of Mike, and this is what I came up with. I really hope you enjoyed it. I started posting on this site about a year and a half ago and I honest to God never thought I'd end up with such great readers and have such a great time writing.

When I reached 50 stories, I told myself that once I then reached 100, I would stop writing and posting and leave my archive open and as it was, for fear that my stories/ideas would become bland/repetitive at the point. However, I'm afraid I now have to eat my own words cos' I simply enjoy writing too much to quit. However, I do promise that if I think my stories start to really suck, I'll call it a day! I know this is a ridiculously long A/N, but I just wanna grab this opportunity to say such a huge and heartfelt thanks to **all** those to read, follow, favourite and review. They all mean so much to and I'm so appreciative. I really am. Who knows, maybe I'll be writing an A/N like this on my 200th story!

Just in addition to all the reviews I've had regarding not posting for the last two weeks or so, I'm fine! Not ill or anything, just been super busy with work and life in general! Thanks for all your concern, I appreciate it! I'll be back to regular updates from now on I think.

Overall, a big heartfelt thanks to everyone for following me on this journey for the last year and a half.

You're all great, I appreciate you all.

Till next time.

Inks x

…..


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